Beg
by tryptovein
Summary: AU. Grimmjow and Soi Fon can't get past their demons until they get past each other. Hilarity ensues. And by hilarity, I mean drama :D
1. Like Anybody Else

Six years ago and I'm 17 years old. Thick black makeup is melting all over my face. I spent a good hour and a half perfecting the imperfect look, but somehow I don't mind. It is unbearably hot, but my body is shivering. The strobe lights are blinding me, rainbow rainbow rainbow, but I'm laughing because this-is-so-much-fun. Tesla is smiling at me, making me dizzy. I'm sure I'm forgetting something important. But this is the day-to-day, and I think I enjoy it.

I'm 17 years old and I'm such a child. I'm enthralled with his hair and bored with my hands. I admit that I'm lackluster; I admit I had sex with him for too many reasons and no good reason at all. I think I had the potential to make good choices, but I'm just like anybody else and I traded them away. I decided I was no good for her and I traded her away. I'm too young for this. What good could I do for her when I could barely do for myself?

I didn't need to go college. I took odd jobs around town until I was 20, but in my spare time I came to the local art museum and memorized the names of paintings. I was afraid of becoming stupid, basically. I had to keep my mind active or I was sure it would evaporate. I can't really tell if what I'm memorizing has any real value, but by the time I was 21 I was modestly knowledgeable and moderately well-known among the museum staff. When the previous curator, Ukitake-san, passed away that summer, there was no time to conduct interviews let alone advertise the job opening. I had no formal art history education or degree, but with more visitors streaming in over the break, you could say it was time for desperate measures. I asked them to take me on, and with some persuasion and compromise on the uniform, I became the fill-in. Eventually, it looked like I wasn't just keeping the spot warm – people recognized me, noisy kids listened to me, not to mention no one else seemed particularly interested in the position. I became the new curator. If I managed to hold on to this job, maybe I wasn't so worthless?

* * *

I'm 21 and I study my ass off. I memorize every fucking scenario, every damn loophole, every fucking page. I know it happens, but not to me, not like this. I'm angrier than I have any right to be. I want nothing to do with it. The most beautiful thing in Tokyo tonight is white and it makes me forget everything. I forget Tia is in the car, I forget Toshiro is just a kid. I don't even remember where we're going. My head smashes through the windshield and before I see black I hear Tia screaming at him, so loudly I wanted to tell her to shut up. I don't remember being scared.

I'd like to tell you I became a lawyer because my father was a bastard attorney who decimated his opponents, or because a close childhood friend of mine was killed and the murderer escaped unscathed. But I just wanted money. I hated worrying about money. I hated caring about money. It was like this shadow in my brain, never letting me completely out of the dark. I hated seeing my mother stressed to pieces over rent; I hated how she looked when we couldn't go to the movies on the weekend. Even more than that – did she really believe I cared about any of those things? More than I cared about her? She shouldn't have to think that way. I had to fix it.

I could read and write better than my friends and I liked to think I was pretty fucking patient guy, so I figured it was a good fit. Reading case after case after case for hours and summarizing the important shit for guys richer than you, not like it was impossible. But I didn't want to be anyone's bitch; I wanted _to be_ one of those rich guys in ridiculously showy suits.

I took the exam again a year later and I got into law school. Am I still a good guy?

* * *

Author's note: I came up with the idea for this story a while ago, but I'm pretty rusty on my writing. I apologize for such a short intro chapter, but if you have any interest in reading more, please let me know!


	2. Smoke Like Halos

Today was an unlucky Friday. People should try and remember that Fridays aren't the best days of the week. They open up the window to a weekend of stupid decision making.

This Friday everything had been going smoothly while I dressed and cleaned up before work. My apartment is actually kind of inviting for being so dismally small. There's only one of me, I always tell myself when I start to feel rage bubble up from my throat at the one bedroom-one bathroom-one kitchen-one living room box I call home. Who has more than one living room anyway?

I sat down at the dining table in the kitchen and turned on the small television on the counter. Televisions in living rooms tend to remind me that people should be watching with me.

As I started to drink my coffee, a woman in orange lipstick and too many patterns on her power suit to count begins to open a story. Apparently about an abandoned puppy rescued by a little girl on her way to school last week. These early morning shows have tapes and tapes on hand of sickly little puff pieces about children and the goodness within their cute little hearts. This little girl was definitely cute. She sat there in front of the camera, with two pigtails tied with small, sparkly blue bows; brave because she had yet to develop a sense of self-consciousness. She was holding a tiny black puppy close to her face while she recounted her heroism.

_"I found him hiding near the vending machine behind my mom's grocery store!"_

Vending machine? Huh. Closer inspection revealed that she was a little more well-developed than other 9-year-olds I'd seen.

_"I didn't want to scare him so I stuck my chocolate bar out as bait to get him to come near me, and he did!"_

Don't dogs hate chocolate or something like that? I shrugged and returned to face the little girl on my screen.

_"I dunno why anyone would leave such a cute puppy! My mommy says sometimes the people get busy and they can't take care of animals, but I think they were just stupid or mean! But it's okay 'cause I saved him and now he's mine!"_

The orange lipstick woman throws a charming, rehearsed laugh my way and does her back-to-you-at-the-front-desk bit before it cuts to a commercial about Viagra.

Suddenly I feel like the high collar on my gray blouse in choking me. This is the only damn outfit I own that wasn't purchased on sale and I'm ridiculously careful with it. The first time I tried it on I spent five minutes running my hands over the feather-soft wool and touching the small ruby-red buttons that ran up the neck, matching the buttons that ran down the back of my knee-length skirt. I looked so much more intelligent than I really was when I wore this outfit. But this morning I couldn't breathe in that collar.

I tried to undo a few of the buttons, but my hands fumbled. I started to panic and got up from my chair as I continued to struggle with the ridiculous thing. I will myself to relax, but my arms are flailing all over the place because I'm suffocating in that scratchy woolen noose. Naturally, I knock my coffee over and it cascades into my lap.

"Shit!" I glance at the clock and realize I'm 15 minutes behind schedule. Meaning I'll have to hope that no one notices a coffee stain on a black skirt.

"Fon-kun, there you are! You must have had a hectic morning!" My supervisor has a particularly venomous look in her wide gray-blue eyes this morning. Though I'm sure she looks as sweet as candy to the rest of the world.

"Yes," I wheezed. Imagine that I had actually tried to run from the parking lot in these "sensible" four-inch heels. "I apologize for my tardiness Retsu-san, there was an accident on the highway this morning and I –"

"Fon-kun, would you kindly direct Schiffer-sama and his wife to the newest Yasuda gallery upstairs? They've been so patient waiting for you to arrive and I don't want to inconvenience them any further," she said abruptly. I knew now wasn't the time for excuses.

"Of course Retsu-san, it would be my pleasure. Right this way." I led them up the carved marble staircase and began to comment on artwork we pass on our way to the exhibit. They looked respectable, and it was never too late to try and make a good impression.

"You can actually get a sense for the period just by looking at these paintings by Ohira. He was a rival to Yasuda just years before he was commissioned by the emperor to complete a series of portraits of the royal family."

"Oh, Ulquiorra, look at the colors! We have to have one for the parlor before my brother pays us a visit next month! That east wing has always been so bland…" The woman, a bubbly beautiful thing with fiery red hair streaming down her back, looks remarkably vibrant, considering she is only visiting a museum.

"I'm not so sure any of these particular works are up for sale, Orihime. Do they ever go to private collectors, Fon-san?"

"Yes actually, there are a few pieces we've received some offers on that you may be interested in. If you'll come this way, the exhibit is just past this corner…"

We enter the main drawing room and the woman, Orihime, flits around to each painting, exclaiming all the while that they were the most beautiful she has seen in years.

"Ulquiorra, this garden reminds me of my mother's. I don't think I can leave here without it," she whispers to him as he walks up beside her. He has a somber face, with forest green eyes and coal black hair framing his face. I'd never have thought they were a couple, but I'd be lying through my teeth if I said I couldn't feel his love for her pouring out of him from every direction.

"It has a delicate quality about it. I'm sure it will be perfect," he says as he kisses her on her forehead. He clearly didn't care that I was still in the room, but I turned my face away respectfully, though I caught the blush that burned across her face.

"Fon-san, we'd like this one if possible, please." Schiffer-sama says casually, his eyes still intent on his embarrassed wife. "Does it happen to be available for purchase?"

"Ah, _Mourning Orchids_ - a gorgeous piece and a fine choice, Schiffer-sama. Please follow me into the accounting office and we can work out the details from there." My first sale this month and I will not fuck it up. Especially after my charming entrance this morning.

She touches his hand before he leaves with me to make the arrangements and I'm relieved to see that she loves him just as much as he loves her. I'm in a better mood already.

"We've only had one previous offer on this one, at about 1.8 million yen. But the buyer has since left town, and I can see that your lovely wife is quite fond of it, so I'd be happy to lower the asking price to 1.3 million."

"No need," he murmurs as he writes a check for 3 million yen right there in front of me. It takes all my nerve to keep my jaw from plummeting to the ground. When I said they looked "respectable," clearly I wasn't doing them any justice.

"I'm sure Retsu-san will find this fair," he says as he hands me the check and moves to shake my hand. "It may even convince her to forgive you for being late this morning," he adds, with the mildest suggestion of a smile. I got the feeling I could start to like this guy.

"Oh no sir, no trouble at all, the work here speaks for itself, I'm only honored that you would choose our museum," I humbly reply as we walk out of the office door.

"Did you get it Ulquiorra? I hope it wasn't too expensive!" His wife is practically bouncing with anticipation.

"Of course Orihime," he says, shaking his head as he walks into her open embrace. "Why would you think otherwise?"

"Thank you so much for your business, Schiffer-sama. I can't tell you how much I – "

"_SOI!_"

All three of us incline our heads toward the top of the staircase. But I'm the only one who feels the urge to vomit.

Tesla is standing there on those marble steps, or what could only be loosely referred to as "standing" and to my absolute unmitigated horror, he is heading right for us. I never thought I'd die this way.

His hair is a shaggy blond disaster, his clothes are worn thin, and he looks even more emaciated than the last time I saw him, so many years ago.

"Finally tracked you down, huh? Nice place you got here." He stumbles over to us and winks at Orihime. Orihime is stunned into silence and Ulquiorra takes a defensive stance beside her. My eyes fall out of my head.

"God Soi, I never thought you'd be so good at hiding from me. How many years has it been? You still on the good stuff? Or is the costume supposed to make you look clean?" He smirks and puts his arm around my shoulder.

I try to be diplomatic, but really it's fucking impossible.

"Schiffer-sama, I'm so sorry about this interruption," I say as I try to pull his arm off my shoulder to stop my skin from crawling. "I don't know how he got past the security in the lobby, but please come this way and I'll help you –"

"Aw come on, Soi, you know me better than that, I can sneak into anywhere I want. Why don't you introduce me to your new friends here?" He takes Orihime's hand and kisses it. She looks taken aback and moves to retract her hand from his, but before she can, her husband steps in front of her and cuts Tesla off.

"Stay away from us," he says with utmost disgust. "Don't touch my wife again."

"Alright man, no worries, I've got my own doll to play with, right Soi?"

"I'm so sorry for this, I can't believe he's here, I'm calling security right now." I look helplessly around for any signs of help.

"Perhaps we should continue this a later time. I'm voiding that check. Consider the deal off until then, if we decide to return. We won't be harassed by the likes of this trash a second longer." Schiffer takes his wife's hand and leads her protectively down the stairs.

"Sayonara!" He bellows after them. "Finally we're alone. Did you miss me, Soi-chan? We can go have sex in one of those empty rooms if you want. We've been out of practice."

"What the fuck are you doing here, Tesla??" I throw his hands off and step back. "How the fuck did you find me? You ruined my sale and they're never coming back, you fucking idiot!" My blood is boiling.

"I don't see a fucking halo around your head, Soi. All I see is the same old girl with the same old bruises and still as cheap as ever. But your ass looks good in those clothes; why didn't you ever do the sexy librarian thing for me, huh?" He circles around me and puts his hands on my hips. I snap and punch him. Blood flows from his nose.

"Bitch! What the hell is wrong with you?? You think you're better than me now just 'cause you managed to find a _real_ job? You're still fucking worthless!" he screams.

"Don't fucking touch me. Don't. I don't ever wanna see you again," I say as I move toward the stairs. I turn to begin the descent, when I realize I'm facing Retsu-san.

"Soi Fon! What is God's name is going on here! I saw Schiffer-sama and his wife leave looking furious! What did you say to them!?" She looks wildly about and her eyes freeze on Tesla.

"You," she spits. "I've seen you lurking around the entrance for months. I had no idea you were with her." Her eyes dart to me and I cringe.

"Retsu-san, please understand, I don't know where he came from, I have nothing to do with him, I have no idea how he got here, please –" I beg, but I know what she's about to do.

"Soi Fon, you've alienated one of our best patrons with your association with this, this…" she glares at him once more, searching for the appropriate word. "This, _creature_, and I simply can't risk it happening again. I'm going to have to let you go. Security will be up in a moment to escort you both out. Goodbye." She swiftly makes her way back down the stairs and I sink to my knees. I can't believe this is happening. Why is this happening to me...?

"Fuck her anyway. You can come live with me, Soi, and we can go back into business together. I forgive you, 'cause you didn't actually break my nose with that sissy-ass punch of yours," he sneers.

But I don't think I even heard him. I don't even know what to say. I don't even know he's there anymore. I'm completely apathetic as the guards latch onto my wrist and take us both outside the museum and I watch those thick glass doors close behind them, so slowly.

"So, where are we goin' Soi? Got a new place to match that costume?" He's still here?

"No. I don't. I don't have anything. Please don't follow me." I manage to get out.

"Fuck, is this how you treat all your dear friends? Such hospitality. I don't give a fuck. I know you. You're not what you think you are. Look at me!" He grabs my shoulder and spins me around, but I don't want him to see my eyes getting wet so I break his hold and start to run. People stare, but I didn't have the energy to worry about appearances anymore.

I run all the way back to my apartment. I think one of my heels broke halfway there. I know he won't follow me. He'll just find me again another time. I'm never going get away.

I didn't have much of anything in the fridge to eat when I got home, so I went straight to bed in my ruined uniform. Not that it counts as an actual uniform anymore. Now it really is just a costume. Ha, Tesla the fortune teller. Misery makes you see the humor in tragic shit.

I sleep till two in afternoon. Saturday. The paralysis that struck after yesterday's theatrics has worn off, and I'm heavy with reality. My eyes adjust to the sun peeking through my bedroom curtains and I know I can't lay here forever. I'm going to be short this month. Very short.

It wasn't till I began to eat my stale cereal in the kitchen that I started getting stupid ideas. What if they check up on me because I'm short? What if they think I'm trying to duck out? I can't let them find out. This is bigger than me or Tesla or the museum.

My cereal tastes like wet tissue paper in my mouth. I chew like a machine and continue to stare blankly into the TV screen. When was the last time I've gotten way with stealing something? It might have been two years ago. I had just moved into this apartment and didn't have the foresight or common sense to add an extra set of locks to the front door. Needless to say, I didn't have many valuables that were exactly worth stealing, but when I came back from waitressing that day, my CD player was gone.

Funny isn't it? Stealing a CD player when they're pretty much obsolete these days. I guess it's the thought that counts. Either way, I was pissed. That CD player was the first thing I ever bought for myself, after I found my first job as a hostess in a restaurant when I was 18 and got my first paycheck. A damn weak paycheck, but if it meant I could listen to my CD's during break it was worth the world to me. I lived in a very small world back then. I still do.

I didn't even bother to change out of my uniform that day. I ran down to the parking lot, and drove to the first electronics store I could find. I flirted with the sales assistants and pretended I was looking for a CD player for my brother's birthday next month. Luckily my hostess uniform was a lot more, generous, shall we say, than my curator wardrobe, and he was easy to manipulate.

I asked him if he could find me a nice set of headphones to match the one I was interested in, and smiled my most available smile as he walked away toward another section of the store. While he was gone I slipped it into my bag, and when he came back I used every ounce of my womanly wiles to thank him profusely for his help and touch his arm as I left, assuring him I'd be back to purchase the player and headphones (and of course, to see him again) very soon. I don't think my wiles are all that impressive, but they were good enough that day, and I had a CD player again.

I didn't feel guilty, more like I was taking fate into my own hands. Karma can take her time, but I get my music now. A few years from now I'll probably look back at it and shake my head, but that day was still far off.

This memory replayed itself in my head, and my confidence began to rise. Maybe I could actually pull this off, I thought as I went through the motions the rest of the day. By the time it was midnight, I was set in my decision. Like I said, weekends are the prime time for stupid decisions.

I went to my closet and pulled out whatever nondescript black clothing I had, and put on my sneakers. I was going to have to run. I put my hair up, or at least tried to, since it was a short choppy mess as usual, and tucked it into a ski-cap. The goal was to look as androgynous as possible. I was fortunate enough to have a rather disappointing figure and a smaller than average height, so it wouldn't be too difficult to pass for a young boy.

I took a long look at myself in the mirror before I left my bedroom. I looked so familiar it was repulsive. I guess Tesla was right in more ways than I thought.

I gave myself a feeble pep talk as I made my way out the door. I stepped into the night and braced myself for Toyko. I don't know how a thief is supposed to feel before a job. Hyped, excited, nervous? Scared, turned-on? No idea. Hopefully I wouldn't get too acquainted with the feeling.

But as I took a deep breath, maybe the last one I'd get all night, only one thought blanketed my mind.

I'm too old for this.

* * *

Author's note: I tried to use Japanese honorifics in this chapter, but my background on them is poor at best, so please let me know if I used any of them incorrectly! Also, sorry for the lack of actual GrimmSoi so far, but next chapter will be Grimmjow's POV, so hopefully things will get moving soon. As always, review or PM me if you are interested in reading more!


	3. Hand of my New Angel

Shit, I love Fridays. I systematically lower my quality of work beginning late Thursday, working my way down to zero productivity by Friday evening. It's a fantastic thing I got going here.

Paralegals are generally easy to come by, and they come a dime a dozen in a city like this one. I was one of maybe seven in our department, where we dealt with the most mundane of civil cases. And as luck would have it, five of them were women. Not the bookworm types either. The types that had been circulated around the big shot lawyers in charge over years, the ones they just couldn't seem to get rid of. They were nice enough, but more like decorative pieces for the office than anything else. And don't accuse me of being sexist, 'cause I've had copy-room encounters with most of them, and trust me when I say there ain't nothing going on in those pretty little heads of theirs.

But maybe I'm being kinda harsh on these women. Really I should show them some appreciation. The shorter they wear their pencil skirts (don't ask me how I know what they're called) the less the man upstairs notices when I get sloppy with my research. Fucking forgive me, but I just don't care about the history of class action lawsuits against janitors who steal toilet paper from corporate bathrooms.

Nope, my ass has been very Google friendly this Friday, and just when I'm starting to get that pre-weekend buzz, that Kurosaki bastard decides to pay me a visit.

"Heyyy Grimm! Man you look bitchy today - did I interrupt your porn search?" He decides to make himself at home and closes my office door behind him. That carrot headed asshole. This is what I get for tipping off friends from law school about job opportunities.

"Fuck off, Kurosaki. I'm not in the mood for a chat right now. By the way, you've got red shit all over your jacket. Piss off the missus this morning?" I grin, knowing how volatile his wife was.

"Oh this?" he says, as that characteristic smugness creeps into his face. "Nah, Rukia was painting something new, and she was a little….friskier…than usual today. Things got a little messy and I just didn't have time to change."

Man. Some guys have all the fucking luck. But of course, I couldn't let him know I was jealous.

"Yeah, well, I don't have time to listen to your sexcapades, Ichigo. Don't you have some work to do or something?" I finish lamely.

"Alright, alright, I'm goin'. Just make sure you remember to show up for dinner next Saturday. Bring whoever you want. Rukia's making seiōbo."

"Yeah yeah, I'll be there…just make sure she doesn't try to poison me with paint thinner or some shit." I wave him off as he leaves and the door shuts behind him.

Dinner. Bring whoever I want. Another thing to worry about.

But I refuse to be put in a bad mood. Seconds before the clock hits 5:30 I'm already outside in the parking lot. Ten minutes before six I'm home and in the shower trying to scrub all that corporate shit off me. Where do I wanna go tonight?

I run a towel over my mop of hair, that obnoxious shade of blue I used to hate so much. I'm a little more used to it now; I guess it gives me a sense of individuality next to all those drones I work with. You gotta look on the bright side.

I shove aside dozens of ties in my closet. How many fucking ties do I have? Who the fuck am I trying to impress? Red, blue, beige, gold, red, red, gray, dark red, red, red. Too many reds. I have to shake the image out my head before I pick out the first shirt I see that isn't ironed and the only pair of jeans I own. I wanna look like everyone else in Tokyo tonight.

My car is a sleek black machine, finer than the Batmobile herself. It was the first thing I bought with the first paycheck I got from the firm. I had to eat a little light those first few months, but it was completely worth it. The first week I owned her, I brought my goddamn pillow and blanket down from my bedroom and slept in the back seat. I can't begin to describe how the cool the leather seats get at night or how that new smell sinks into your skin the longer you stay in the car.

I just felt like it was the first thing that was ever really mine. I could smash the windows open with a golf club, I could slash the tires, I could key the slick paint job and it wouldn't matter at all. No one would care but me. Because it was only mine and no one else's. I'd kiss the pope before I'd lay a finger on that car, but it was in the principle. The only things that meant anything to me these days were usually principles.

I haven't eaten much all day, so I stop by Kisuke's before I enter town. His girlfriend, the ever-charming Yoruichi decides to greet me at the door before I turn my ass around and make for the nearest McDonalds.

"Jaegerjaques, you blue ass idiot, what the hell are you doing here! We're swamped with customers tonight; haven't you got any left over Ramen at home or should I call your mother and tell her you're up past your bedtime?" She wipes the sweat from her forehead and hollers for Kisuke to start on the next batch of sashimi.

"It's always a pleasure, Yoruichi," I say, pushing her stubborn frame aside and trying to make out Kisuke's figure behind the thick haze of steam in the kitchen.

"Yo Urahara! You back there anywhere?" I should past her ear, ignoring her attempts to shove me back onto the sidewalk. "Your girlfriend is being rude to a loyal customer, aren't you gonna do anything about it?"

"Ah, but don't loyal customers usually pay?" Urahara sang out from within, as he finally appeared in front of me and whispered something in Yoruichi's ear. She belts out that guttural laugh of hers and goes back inside to help the other cooks. I thought she'd never leave.

"Come on in Grimmy! Don't worry about Yoruichi, she just has a thing against stray cats." He puts his arm around my shoulder and leads me to the same small wooden table in the corner of the kitchen. Same table I've been coming to for a decade.

"Ironic," I mutter. "Got any scraps for me? Work was hell today, y'know. I could use something special."

"Beggars can't be choosers, silly boy!" Urahara chortles as he places a plate of the fresh sashimi in front of me, paying no mind to my poor manners as I pour half a bottle of soy sauce onto the plate and wolf through it. "But it would be a crime to deprive them of such delicious works of genius."

I'm pleasantly unwound after three glasses of sake, and I begin to spill.

"Sooo, I'm really bored tonight, Urahara, I don't know what to do with myself." I start to slur. "Got any recommendations for a kid like me?"

"Hmm, let me think…." He puts on his exaggerated "thinking" face. "Welllll, one of my _dearest_ friends in Tokyo, Kukaku-san, just opened up a delightful new business. It involves a number of beautiful young ladies and lots and lots of –"

"Ah, Urahara, you were always a sleazy fucker. But I don't have the money for that kind of fun tonight." I drawl, sure that my tongue is hanging half out of my mouth. I think my right eye is melting or something…what the fuck did he put in this stuff?

"Shame, Grimmy! Don't implicate me with that filthy mind of yours!" he cries, looking scandalized as he whips out his trademark fan and turns away from me in mock-disgrace.

"These girls are not common whores! They only offer the top quality services to deserving young men, tired and worn from a long day under commercial slavery. Clearly you are unworthy of such luxury," he says with a disappointed shake of his head as he gets up from his seat.

"But here's her card anyway," he winks at me, handing me a small, origami crane before disappearing into the steam once again. I'm still not sure he isn't a serial killer.

When I leave Kisuke's and arrive in Tokyo, I park alongside the curb of the third street I see, listen to two songs on the radio, and light one cigarette, 'cause I've always been a superstitious bastard. I don't actually smoke them, I just wave the smoke around me until I start to smell like I'm tougher than I look. You can never be too sure in a city like this, and I'm not exactly the most aggressive guy I know.

I make my way down the streets and try to memorize the combinations of lights. Blue, green, yellow. Purple, red, blue. White, gold, orange. They form multicolored swirls all over the black sky, like an oil spill to my sake-blurred eyes. Once I get to a relatively quiet corner, I unfold the small crimson crane Kisuke gave me. Written in flowing, elegant script is nothing but an address. Knowing Kisuke, it could very well be a prank on his part, but tonight I didn't mind taking gambles.

When I find the place, it looks inconspicuous enough. It was actually on a busier street than I expected. I guess they were hoping to be overlooked in favor of the bigger, more impressive shops that they were sandwiched between. But I have to admit, the place looked inviting, even from what little I could see on the outside. Creamy, pale silk curtains with intricate blue flower patterns all over them, small tea candles tucked away in the corners, a string of deep blue lights fringing the small window.

In addition to the décor, I spotted two women standing nearby the entrance, definitely of the "top-quality" Urahara was raving about. One petite, pretty pale woman with deep chocolate hair, and the other, a taller, cool blonde, blue-eyed figure of the more well-endowed persuasion. Both are dressed in deep pink, form-fitting kimonos.

I feel so young tonight. Like I used to. Even though I'm only 25 I feel fucking geriatric sometimes. I need something to match my lively mood. Maybe the blonde.

I clear my throat and try my best to sound as masculine as possible, but I barely manage to squeak out a pitiful "excuse me" in her general direction. God must have felt particularly empathetic, because she actually heard it and motioned for me to come closer.

"New guy, huh?" Her voice is deep and lilting. "What can I do for you this evening?"

I catch a trace of her perfume and I choke. The smell is too familiar.

When I was still in high school and Toshiro was five, I took him and Tia to a small toy shop in Tokyo for his birthday. It was winter and Tia stayed close to me to keep warm. She smelled the same was that she always smelled, like jasmine and vanilla. I recognize it so well. Toshiro stood with his face glued to the store window and begged us to take him inside.

We spent maybe two hours in there, laughing as he tested out anything that wasn't nailed to the ground. It was such a long day, but so…comfortable? I remember Tia beaming when Toshiro finally picked out a kaleidoscope, explaining that he couldn't decide what color toy he wanted, so he'd chosen the one with every one of the colors instead. I kissed her outside the store while he looked through it, shouting out everything he saw. And I remember vanilla and jasmine and snow on our heads. And happy.

My mind is wiped and suddenly I can't remember what I came here for, and my alcohol addled brain is functioning at a pathetic pace. The first thing that pops into my head is the only thing that's been worrying me all week.

"Wouldyoucometodinnerwithme?" I blurt, shocked that I haven't passed out onto the concrete yet.

"Ai, Ran-san! You got a bright one!" The small brunette snickers but quickly regains her composure.

The blonde ignores her friend and gives me a scrutinizing look. I can tell she's seen my type a thousand times before.

"You want to take me to dinner?" She repeats carefully, her eyes inquiring. "And what might you mean by that?"

Sighing, I begin to recount the trials that Kurosaki has put me through all the years I've know him. I spin a story so dismal that she may feel sorry enough for me to actually agree. I mentally cross my fingers.

"And now he wants me to come to dinner at his new place. I have to bring someone, but I haven't had the time to meet people…and I can't go alone because –" I falter, unsure of my next thought.

"They get worried about me sometimes." I finish simply. She doesn't seem like she needs complicated answers.

After a nine second pause and one muffled giggle from the brunette, she boldly offers her hand for me to shake.

"Rangiku Matsumoto. And you are…?"

"Grimmjow. You can just call me Grimmjow." I breathe, relieved. I should probably start praying more or something.

"Grimmjow. Not too unusual, considering my previous clients. I'll need some way to contact you so we can work out the details. Unless you'd rather discuss it inside?" She motions toward the window. "We've got sake if you'd like some."

"No, no that's alright," I respond quickly. I can't handle this kind of anxiety so consecutively. Besides, I'd had my fill of her friend and wasn't sure she'd be quite so tolerant.

I take my wallet out of my back pocket and retrieve a business card with my name, address, and phone number on it. "I'll reach you sometime next week since the dinner is next Saturday," I say as I hand it to her. "And uh, you know, thanks for, uh…" I mumble, trying to express my gratitude for such an unconventional favor.

"Don't worry about it, Grimmjow," she smiles, and I suddenly feel like a child. Why do I get myself into these situations?

Once I nod goodbye, I step back from the sidewalk onto the street. I turn to put my wallet back into my pocket. Cold night air rushes past my arms and a small hand brushes against mine. My wallet is gone.

I can barely make out a small, black figure racing away from me, probably some sneaky little kid who ran out of homework or some shit. But I had fucking thirty-thousand yen in that wallet, and no bitchy little boy was gonna make off with it so easily. Not tonight.

I start to run after him. He was a fast little fucker, I'll tell you that much. I've always wanted to yell "Stop, thief!" like they always do in those western movies since I was a kid, but I get the feeling no one would care much. So I didn't waste my breath.

"Hey! Wait kid!" I yell after him, gasping for air. 25 years and your body starts to show your age. Eventually he gets to an alleyway and I've got him cornered. He doesn't seem to be giving up, though. He climbs on top of a trashcan and tries to make it over the chain link fence. I come up behind him and drag him by his sweater off the trashcan. He tumbles to the floor.

"Fuck off me!" He screams, and proceeds to kick me where the sun don't shine. If I was amused or annoyed before, now I'm pissed. Again he tries to make for the fence, with my wallet in tow. This time, I grab him by the wrist, whip him around and deck him clear across the face. His ski cap flies off, and glossy black hair falls out around his face. His face?

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" He shrieks, way too shrill, even for a young boy. Blood is gushing from his lip and he lays there on the dirt floor, shooting daggers at me from a pair of wide cloud-gray eyes and beneath thick dark lashes.

I don't know if I've ever gawked before, but I'm pretty damn sure that was what I was doing. I just stood there with my mouth open and my head cocked, like I was trying to figure out one of those long-ass word problems from elementary school.

"What the fuck are you staring at??" He gets up and dusts his clothes off. What wasn't there before is definitely there now. Without question. Small, curved hips and a long neck paired with a pouting mouth and high cheekbones. And an angry face. A very, very angry face.

Holy shit, it was a girl.

Holy shit, it was a woman.

Shit.

* * *

Author's note: I put together is chapter kinda quickly, so I apologize for the sloppiness. It might be a while before I can write the next chapter because I have some tests coming up, and I'd like to put at least a dent in my homework tonight so I have some time to watch _Castle_ tomorrow :D

Review if you like it!


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